


Death Toll

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5847526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was an archaeologist, not a soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Toll

 

First published in  _Foundations 1_ (2001)

 

Sometimes, Daniel Jackson hated his job.

That seemed awfully ungrateful. How many of his colleagues had ever seen even one of the civilizations they studied, alive and in action? Let alone visited other planets to do so? It was literally an archaeologist’s dream job, if ever Daniel’s wildest dreams could have conjured up such a fantasy. Besides the love of discovery, it had also given him a wife, a home on a distant desert planet, good friends, and validation for all his years of believing what his colleagues only laughed at.

And then had cost him that wife and home, and forbidden him even to produce proof of his work and restore his academic reputation.

None of which was foremost in his mind at the moment, however.

Daniel sighed, casting a glance at the dim field around him, the trees off in the distance. The air was still, his teammates asleep behind him, leaving him on solitary watch duty. On this planet, there was no insect life to fill the night air with their soft sounds. Even though they usually encountered the same green grass wherever they went--except for that startling red, thick vegetation on PR9-255--and much of the same trees, the smells and sounds of every planet were different, reminding him he was far from home. Still, some things were universal. Suns and moons rose and set. Life went through its cycle, ending in inevitable death. And taking that life, whether the eyes that met yours in that last moment of life were human or alien, was...something Daniel couldn’t quite accept.

The attack had come mostly as a surprise. The peaceful, tribe-dwelling natives of the planet had told them there was a traveling band of looters who sometimes struck, killing and plundering. No one had really expected the band to come after the SG-1 team, but they’d been on their guard anyway as they started their day-long journey back to the gate following the usual pre-treaty libations. Their vigilance just hadn’t been enough when a dozen or so large, neanderthal-like men had melted out of the trees around them to launch a midday attack.

His friends and teammates worried about him. Daniel knew that and was even touched by it, but it was still to his chagrin that the team’s defensive position always seemed to be to surround him, as if he were some kind of child to be protected by the herd. Still, the other three were soldiers while he was just masquerading as one, and even though he’d brought up his weapon, too, Jack, Sam, and Teal’c were already in the thick of battle.

Really, he should be grateful they’d gotten off as easily as they had. Sam had been hit in the arm by one of the marauders’ primitive projectile weapon, though it hadn’t put her out of commission. Jack received a glancing blow to the side that hadn’t seem to faze him much, and if Teal’c was injured at all, Junior had taken care of it before Daniel had seen any sign. But the battle had been ferocious for a brief minute, drawing the other three slightly away from him by necessity.

And that was when one of their attackers had dropped down right in front of Daniel. In the time it took the archaeologist to overcome his shock, the marauder was already lifting his weapon to aim at Daniel. Daniel’s was already up, but that split-moment of indecision had nearly cost him his life.

Then he’d pulled the trigger.  

He’s seen Jack and Sam and Teal’c shoot and kill when needed to, and while it was a job none of his friends took lightly, they did what they had to do. He always figured he would too if necessary. And he had. He would have killed for Sha’re or one his teammates without a second thought.

So what did that say about him?

Daniel sighed. This was so far from the ancient history and languages he’d started out in. That was him, not the camos and the weapons and the...shooting. How could he reconcile the two?

Maybe he couldn’t.

He picked up a handful of dirt and let it trickle back to the ground. Not his home soil. He couldn’t wait to get off that planet and go home and try to forget.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...

“Daniel?”

The voice made him start guiltily, and Daniel glanced up at Jack O’Neill just behind him, then with confusion at his watch. “It’s not your turn yet,” he answered.

“I know.” The colonel flopped down next to him, his firearm casually set down beside him. Daniel’s eyes lingered on it for a moment. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh,” was Daniel’s only response.

There was a quiet pause that would have been comfortable in other circumstances if not for the chaos of his thoughts. Jack had relieved him and was probably expecting him to go sleep, but Daniel couldn’t quite face the pitch black, enclosed tent. It seemed too much like a tomb. Even the idea made him shiver. His thoughts seemed to be running morbid that evening.

“Wanna talk about?” Jack’s game offer pulled him back to the situation at hand, and Daniel blinked at the older man. Jack, volunteering to talk about feelings? Not the Jack O’Neill he knew.

“About what?” he asked suspiciously.

“‘Bout what’s been eating you all evening,” Jack answered, still in that even voice. His eyes were trained on the area around them, keeping watch like the good soldier Daniel wasn’t. A soldier trained to kill.

This time Daniel yanked himself out of that line of thinking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

O’Neill glanced at him with a grimace. “Oh, come on, Daniel. You’re usually talking a mile a minute, but you didn’t say more than two words tonight, and those were ‘yes’ and ‘no.’”

“Maybe I’m just tired,” he protested defensively. The last thing he wanted to discuss was what was on his mind, and the last person he wanted to talk to about it was Colonel Jack O’Neill. Even if he’d come to consider the man a friend, there were some areas in which it was clear they’d never speak the same language. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Being a linguist didn’t help you digest what you were hearing.

“Yeah, and maybe I’m the queen,” Jack shot back. “It’s not like it’s a dirty secret, Daniel--I’ve seen it happen to a lot of rookies out in the field. Some of ‘em lose it the first time they have to fire real bullets at the enemy.”

Daniel flushed. “I’ve had to fire at the enemy before.”

“You’ve never had to kill anyone before,” was Jack’s unusually soft answer.

When had he gotten so damnably transparent? Daniel took a deep breath. “No, I haven’t,” he managed, more or less neutrally. “It’s not exactly something they teach you in college.”

“Depends on the college.”

“So I guess you’re used to it,” Daniel said bitterly.

Sharp eyes turned on him and Jack’s jaw shifted. Daniel suddenly wished he could take the question back. Taking his lousy mood out on Jack, blaming him for doing his job well had not been what Daniel had intended.

“I--I didn’t mean...,” he faltered.

Jack’s eyes were back on the distant trees. At least one of them was keeping watch. “Yes, you did. And no, I’m not used to it. I may not lose my lunch every time I have to do it anymore, but that doesn’t make me happy about it any more than your carrying a gun makes you a soldier.”

Daniel’s protest died on his lips. He didn’t _want_ to be a soldier. That had never even remotely been on his list of ambitions and dreams. His parents had been peaceful people and had raised him with the same value system. What would they have thought of their son now, the killer?

“I don’t suppose it helps that you did it to save your life?” Jack offered.

He answered with a glare.

“Didn’t think so.”

Daniel sighed again, rubbing at his face with his hands. Even after his parents’ death, life had been simple, with archaeology and history his only purposes. When had that grown to include weaponry, and a struggle to get back his wife, and friends who were so unlike him, and all sorts of shades of grey? Then again, how it had happened didn’t matter. It was his life now, and he couldn’t leave it if he wanted to, not with Sha're out there, which meant he had to get used to it.

Daniel plucked a few blades of the not-so-alien grass, anything to avoid looking at Jack’s face as he asked, “Does it get easier?”

He could sense the colonel’s eyes on him, though. “Not for people like you, no,” Jack said with a thread of wistfulness Daniel couldn’t remember hearing from him before. It disappeared just as quickly, replaced by a too-cheery smile. “Could be worse. You could be on Domingo’s diplomatic team, spending the whole time kissing aliens’--”

“Jack,” he interrupted wearily. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to be on SG-1. I just wish...” He didn’t even know what. Once, it would have been having Sha're back and living on Abydos again but so much had happened since then...

“Yeah,” Jack agreed under his breath.

“It’s just...what’s the point? Sure, we killed those tribesmen today because we didn’t have any choice and they would have killed us instead.” Daniel grew more intense as he spoke, hands flying in unconscious depiction of the animation Jack so often teased him about. “But maybe that was just what they were trying to do, too. For all they knew, we were the invaders and it was kill or be killed. And what did we accomplish?”

“We stayed alive.” The words weren’t as flip as they sounded.

“Besides that,” Daniel shook his head. “I mean, yeah, we defended ourselves and we even saved that village the tribesmen were attacking, but it doesn’t bring back the kids they’ve killed, or help Sam’s arm heal any faster, or--or...”

“...balance the cosmic scales of justice?” O’Neill offered lightly.

“Something like that,” Daniel answered, more subdued.

“We’re not gods, Daniel.”

“I know that. I’m just saying I took someone’s life tonight, and I want to know _why_.”

“Is that all, Jackson? Why not ask me the meaning of life while you’re at it?”

He thought he was, and the idea should have made him laugh but it didn’t. He turned intently to O’Neill. “How many people have you had to kill in your career, Jack?”

A flicker in the dark eyes. “Forty-seven confirmed.”

The flat answer rocked him. Daniel hadn’t expected an exact figure, let alone such a high one. Forty- _seven_? And this was the man he considered a friend, one whom he trusted?

Maybe the revulsion showed in his eyes, or maybe Jack was trying to lighten the moment as he often attempted to with mixed results, because his wry grin returned. “That includes Jaffa and Ra, but I guess they don’t really count as people...”

Daniel’s anger grew into something he couldn’t recognize, something with a life of its own. How could anyone joke about this, let alone a man who’d lost his own son to violence? “For God’s sake, Jack, don’t you take _anything_ seriously?” he snapped.

The very air itself changed. The colonel’s face hardened, and suddenly he was the trained warrior Daniel didn’t often have a chance to observe, his voice low and furious. “What do you want me to say, that it feels like my heart’s being ripped out? That I dream about the faces of the people I’ve had to kill? That sometimes I wonder how things would’ve turned out if I hadn’t gone into the Air Force, that maybe Charlie would even be alive still? Is that what you want to hear, Daniel? Well, sometimes it does tear me up, like the kid in my platoon _I_ had to shoot because he went crazy and started picking off our own guys. But sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes I’m even glad I got to kill the animal who took out some of my people first. That’s the way it is, Danny boy--welcome to my world. You’ve still got a chance to find Sha're and have a happily-ever-after life together. Me, my chances are gone. This is it, fighting for my country and my planet so that people like _you_ don’t have to go through everything _I’ve_ gone through. Is that what you want to hear?”

He sat paralyzed, jaw slightly open. Maybe that was what he’d meant...but not anymore. “Jack--,” he stammered.

“You’re relieved,” Jack O’Neill cut him off.

“But--”

“Get some sleep. We’ve got an early start in the morning.” And then he pointedly turned away from Daniel to study the perimeter around and behind them.

Daniel slowly stood, absently stomping to get circulation going in his half-dead legs. He took a step, then another back toward the campsite, his eyes still on Jack’s stiff back. And he finally said softly. “No, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. But maybe it was what I had to hear. I’m sorry.”

There was no response, not even the slightest softening of the rigid figure keeping watch.

“Good-night, Jack,” he said quietly, and then began to stumble toward the tent he shared with Sam.

“Good-night, Daniel,” came the even softer answer, once more calm in tone.

Daniel paused for a minute where he stood, then went on to try to get some sleep and forget that whole godforsaken day.

 

The next morning, it was like their discussion had never happened. Well, besides the fact that Jack was treating him with bare politeness, much as when they’d first met.

They’d slept in a little longer in deference to Sam, the same reason they were travelling slower back to the gate and thus had had to camp for the night. Daniel was grateful for the delay, not having fallen asleep for some time after he’d lain down. The face of the...man he’d killed faithfully appeared every time he’d closed his eyes. With the new day, it was easier not to think about it, but he doubted he’d ever forget. And wondered if he really wanted to.

He didn’t need to ask how Sam was doing; she gamely helped collect and pack their gear even one-armed, but her face was still pinched with pain and fatigue. They all noticed and tried to give her a hand, Teal’c doing most of her packing for her without a word. And as for Jack, he was back to being...Jack. Except for where Daniel was concerned.

“Okay, campers, let’s head out--we’re burning daylight.”

Daniel winced, recognizing the quote from a John Wayne movie Jack had made him sit through. The fact that he was not a fan of westerns or indeed any kind of movie had never much seemed to impress O’Neill. Now, with a sidelong glance at the colonel that Jack totally ignored, Daniel had to wonder if his friend and team leader would care to watch anything with him again.             Teal’c lingered behind them, bringing up the rear and talking to Sam. No doubt asking how one could burn daylight, Daniel thought with an almost smile, as well as keeping a subtle eye on their wounded member. Daniel had done his share of that already, too. Neither Sam nor Teal’c had seemed to notice anything off between their other two teammates, and Daniel was grateful. He’d already alienated one friend too many that trip.

And killed one native too many. Daniel shook his head to clear the illicit thought.

He was tucked in the middle of the group, as usual, which left him staring at Jack’s back as the colonel took the lead, also as usual. Everything as usual...almost.

The several mile trek passed surprisingly quickly, despite two breaks to allow Sam time to rest. Perhaps it was the terrain, shady and pleasantly green without being so dense that they had to cut and pick their way through. Trees surrounded them like a thinned forest, allowing just enough light in to show that it was going to be another beautiful day on the planet the friendly natives had dubbed Treas. Daniel wondered passingly what the marauders called it. Not like they’d had much chance to talk. No, it had been more like “kill and run.”

He had to stop thinking about it or he’d go crazy.

They finally reached the treeline, breaking into the grassy rolling hills on one of which Treas’ Stargate was perched. The large circle had just come into sight, much to Daniel’s private relief.

And then all hell broke loose.

They’d killed most of the marauders the day before, only a few escaping back into the trees. Daniel had been sure then they wouldn’t see those spooked survivors again, though Jack had been a little less certain. Still, with no attack during the night, none of them had expected the looters to return.

Nevertheless, they were under fire before they even had a chance to fall into position. From Daniel’s quick survey, only the two or three escapees seemed responsible, and no wiser from their earlier assault, they were still attacking from out in the wide open. But they’d had the element of surprise on their side.

Jack and Teal’c immediately returned fire, one of the creatures quickly falling with a cry. Leaving only two more, and Sam had also brought her weapon up when a hard jolt struck Daniel’s leg, violently enough to knock him off his feet with a surprised yelp. It had only felt like someone had punched him in the thigh, but Daniel blinked in surprise at the blood starting to spread around a ragged tear in his fatigues.

“Daniel!”

That was Jack, sounding rather upset. _Now_ what had he done, Daniel wondered with an inward groan. All he was doing was sitting there. Or rather, had been tumbled there by... His eyes widened. The creature who was now taking new aim at him, apparently determined to finish the job.

Full circle. He’d killed one of them, and now they’d kill him. Maybe that was fair.

But he didn’t want to die.

That was why he’d killed, to keep from being killed. The native he’d shot had made the choice for him. Jack had been trying to tell him that in O’Neill’s inimicable way, but Daniel hadn’t understood until now as he stared at death again with no choices left to make. It was a shame he wouldn’t have a chance to tell the colonel he’d been right.

A lot of things were a shame. Daniel closed his eyes and waited for the final blow.

A curse and a growl from Jack, and Daniel’s eyes shot back open. Just in time to see the marauder, his would-be executioner, jerk and dance as at least a half-dozen bullets hit him. He collapsed without a sound, at the same moment his compatriot died from a staff weapon blast.

Daniel stared at the bodies, a cold shiver shaking him. And then he finally turned to stare at Jack, to see the momentary grim victory in his eyes as he also looked at the dead attackers, before turning and meeting Daniel’s stare. All the satisfaction drained out of his expression the moment he saw the archaeologist, replaced by a frown of worry.

Daniel closed his eyes and shivered harder, trying to make sense of it all even though his brain seemed to have slowed down to a trickle of thought. Sam’s voice was near, then Jack’s, and he almost flinched away from the latter. The man who had just killed because of him, and had seemed to enjoy it.

“Daniel?”

That was Sam, sounding concerned enough that he opened his eyes.

She smiled. “Just wanted to make sure you were with us. I’m going to put some pressure on your leg to stop the bleeding, then we’ll get you back home so Janet can take a look at you, okay?”

He nodded somewhat thickly, watching with detached interest as she applied a pressure bandage he could hardly feel, then as a dark pair of hands tied it on. That accounted for Teal’c. But where was...

That was when he realized he was leaning against someone, so comfortable that he hadn’t even realized it. Someone who was rubbing up and down his arms to try to still his shivers. Jack. _What do you know, killing machine one minute, human comforter the next_. But he was too shaky to do anything but accept the support offered.

The bandage was pulled tight, and his leg gave a sharp protest. He mumbled an “ow,” dropping his head back onto Jack’s convenient shoulder. Grace period was over--now his leg would start hurting like the devil until he reached Janet and her magic drugs. Wonderful.

“Easy, Danny,” a voice soothed, and a roughened hand gave his head a pat. Still Jack. Daniel sighed. Just when he thought he had the man figured out.

“Ready, Colonel.”

“Okay, Daniel, we’re gonna get you on your feet now. Gate’s not too far away. I’m on this side, Teal’c’s on the other. But it beats being slung over Teal’c shoulder, right?”

He half-grinned, prying his eyes open again. “Right.”

“Good. So let’s get the show on the road.”

He groaned again. “Anyone ever...tell you...cliches are _bad_ , Jack?”

Jack snorted. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a big mouth, Daniel?”

But his movements were gentle as he and Teal’c got the archaeologist on his feet. It wasn’t fun, but with his teammates holding him up, Daniel hardly put weight on the leg and it was bearable.

They made their way slowly to the gate.

“Killing machine” had been wrong, Daniel realized as he limped between his two teammates. There was nothing machine-like about Jack. He didn’t kill automatically or without thought and certainly not without emotion. The way he’d looked after he’d shot the creature who had hit Daniel still troubled him, but...Jack took threats to his team very personally. It was part of why they were still alive at all. He did his job so Daniel could do _his_. That didn’t mean he wasn’t the Jack whom Daniel had grown to know and respect, even care about. It was just another side of the man.

Another side--was that the answer to his own dilemma? Perhaps he hadn’t changed so much as developed one more facet, one requiring him to carry and sometimes shoot a weapon in defense of himself, his team, and ultimately his planet. A necessary evil in an imperfect world. The only other option would be leaving SG-1, and he wasn’t ready to do that. That would have been betraying his true self even more than carrying a loaded weapon. Than even killing, when he had to.

They reached the ‘gate, Sam dialing with one hand and then already on her radio, probably calling ahead for medical help. She led the way up to the gate, followed by the three of them.

A moment later, they were stepping out into the base, and the wormhole’s effects dizzied Daniel briefly, swaying him in his teammate’s grasp. But they didn’t let him fall, Jack’s hand against the side of his face until he regained his balance, and then they were already coaxing him onto the stretcher for the ride to the infirmary. Jack’s hand stayed on his cheek long enough to give it a fond pat, then he stepped aside to give Sam a hand, and Teal’c stayed next to the stretcher as some sort of informal escort.

Daniel shook his head wearily, blocking out the disorienting sensation of being carried on a stretcher. How could he have thought any of his friends were without feeling? His own emotions had messed with his thinking more than he’d thought. He’d have to tell Jack that--the man had enough on his shoulders without thinking Daniel was repulsed by him. Maybe then they could talk a little more about how to deal with the aftereffects of doing what they needed to do.

But he’d have to do it while he was still flat on his back, and Jack felt sorry for him. Getting the man to bare his own feelings was about as easy as asking a mountain to move over a few feet. At least, showing his true feelings in words. In his actions, Jack could be as transparent as glass. Daniel’s cheek was still warm with one such display, as was his heart.

A smile lingered on Daniel Jackson’s face as he dozed the rest of the way to the infirmary.

The End


End file.
